The Bronze Trio
by thusspakekate
Summary: HARRY/PANSY/DRACO - Pansy Malfoy knows everything about her husband, even if he doesn't know it himself. And she is going to get him what he wants and needs. Polyamory/Slash/Voyuerism. ONE-SHOT. Adult Content!


**Author's Note: EWE (I will never acknowledge Astoria as Mrs. Malfoy. NEVER!). Polyamory, voyeurism, slash, etc. Enjoy! **

**Please, read and review!**

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><p>Pansy watches Draco's head turn. She follows his gaze and isn't surprised. It's Potter. Whenever she and Draco are out, whether they're having lunch in Diagon Alley or waltzing at a formal ministry gala, he's always searching for Potter out of the corner of his eye.<p>

It's not that Pansy and Draco aren't happy. Pansy knows that they are. They're best friends, lovers, husband and wife. The night before they took their vows they cast legilimens on each other. It was an old, pureblood tradition that most over the younger generation eschewed. But if Pansy and Draco were anything, they were traditional. They wanted to start their marriage without any secrets, without having to say those things that are better left unsaid. They wanted to know everything about each other and now they do. So when Pansy sees that Draco's eyes are trained on Potter's receding back, she understands. She doesn't tell him this though. She doesn't know if he is even aware of it, but she knows. Call it women's intuition, but Pansy understands why Draco can't keep his eyes off of Potter.

xxx

Pansy is leaving the Ministry after visiting Draco for lunch when she sees Potter walking towards her. His face in buried in a file and he's not paying attention as the crowd parts for him respectfully. But Pansy has never cared for being a part of the crowd and walks straight, pretending she doesn't realize that they are on a crash course. When they collide and Potter's papers go flying, Pansy does a good job of acting surprised.

"Oh, Potter, I'm so sorry," she says as she leans down to help him collect his things.

Harry is surprised to hear her apologize. She has never apologized to him for anything.

"I wasn't paying attention," she continues, willing herself to blush.

"No, it was my fault," Harry responds civilly. "Reading and walking—its a bad habit."

"Yes, well," Pansy says with a smile as she gives him the papers in her hand, "it was lovely to see you. Even if I'm walking away with bruises."

Her smile is dazzling, bright and open and Harry is unsure why it makes him so uneasy. This is a woman who has always hated him, who tried to turn him over to the Dark Lord, who married his childhood rival. This is a woman who has only ever sneered and smirked at him, but now she is smiling and it is radiant. Her face has softened with age, the curves of her body have filled out. She is no longer the hard-faced girl who wanted to see him dead.

Harry is holding his breath because she is beautiful.

He watches as she walks away, her high heels clicking against the tile floor and her hips swinging loosely. When she casts a glance back at him over her shoulder and winks, his mouth goes dry.

xxx

It is a month later and the ministry is hosting a ball to celebrate the autumnal equinox. Harry watches as Pansy spins in Draco's arms and giggles when the champagne tickles her nose. Harry watches Pansy, Pansy watches Draco, Draco watches Potter. When Draco slips out of the ballroom to talk business with the Minister, Harry asks Pansy to dance. She eyes him curiously before accepting.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admits. Harry is an honest drunk.

"Oh, really?" Pansy laughs. Her voice is soft and her eyes twinkle with mischief. "What about me?"

"I don't know," Harry responds, again with honesty. "But you're always there, in the back of my mind, demanding my attention. I always see you in the crowd, even if you aren't there."

Pansy presses her body against him, "I am a married woman, you know."

Harry gulps. "I know." He knows, but he doesn't care, not if Malfoy is her husband—especially not if Malfoy is her husband.

Draco has returned. Pansy sees him standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching her with eyebrows raised. She leans forward and whispers into Harry's ear, "Tomorrow at Eight. The Leaky."

And then she is gone. She is back at Draco's side and he has his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. He is holding Pansy, but he is staring at Potter.

xxx

Harry knows it is a bad idea but he can't stop himself. He pushes through the door at 7:55 and searches the dingy tavern for her. He spots her in the corner, her pale skin a shocking contrast to the centuries of built-up dirt around her.

He orders a firewhiskey at the bar and joins her in the booth. Her long, sharp nails match the blood red of her wine. She says nothing, just smiles. Harry has to force himself to look away. Her smile is blinding.

"I don't know if we should do this," he breaks the silence.

"Do what?" Pansy asks innocently as she leans across the table and places her hand on top of his. Harry smiles at the thought of an innocent Slytherin. He gets the feeling that she knows more about what is going on than he does.

Pansy moves around the table so that she is sitting next to him in the booth. She slides her hands up the length of his thigh, digging her nails lightly into the hard muscle underneath. Harry's dick jumps. He wishes it didn't, he wishes he could pay attention to anything besides how close she is to him or the way her breasts spill out of her low-cut sweater.

"What shouldn't we do, Potter?" she purrs into his ear.

Harry turns his face and then they're kissing. He is kissing her and she is kissing him. He wonders if the ruby red of her lipstick will stain his face, but he decides he doesn't care. He doesn't care that they hate each other, he doesn't care that she's married, he doesn't care that what is going to happen next is wrong in every possible way. He doesn't care because all he think of is how soft her skin feels.

Pansy slips her arm through Harry's and they disapperate.

xxx

The arrive on a muggle street in front of a row of town houses. Harry looks around. If he had to, he would guess it was Kensington.

"You and Malfoy live here?" he asks, looking around.

"It's close to work for me," Pansy shrugs. "Why?" Her tone turns teasing, "Not posh enough for the great Harry Potter?"

Harry chuckles and pulls her in for another kiss, "Posh enough, just surprisingly muggle."

Pansy pulls away and walks up the steps to the front of her home, "You'll find I'm full of surprises."

xxx

"Don't worry," Pansy breathes against his lips. They're barely through the door before she turns and is kissing him. "Draco's not home."

It's a lie, but Potter doesn't know that. Pansy told Draco she had plans this evening and he should wait for her in the guest bedroom. Draco knows that this means. He knows it means that Pansy has a date, that she will bring someone home and fuck him in their bed and that he will press his ear against the wall and wank to the sound of his wife getting fucked by another man's cock. He knows she will then slip into the bedroom reserved for guests that never visit and fuck her husband while covered in the scent and the taste of a stranger.

Draco never knows who these men are, but Pansy is going to make sure he finds out this time.

She drags Harry into the room and throws him on the bed. He is thrilled by her enthusiasm, her sense of control. Other women expect him to take charge, to be dominant and commanding. But he is quickly learning that Pansy Parkinson is not other women. She straddles his hips and kisses him harshly, he groans and thrusts upwards. They fumble out of their clothes, the intensity of the moment diminishing the awkwardness of their motions. And then she pounces on him and he can feel her grinding her wet cunt against him.

"Harry," she moans. "I want you to fuck me."

Harry doesn't need to be asked twice. He's up and on top and buried inside her in moments. She is moaning and writhing and grunting his name as he pounds into her. She's loud and she's uninhibited and she's glorious. Her head is thrown back and her hair is sticking to her face with sweat. Her lips are kiss swollen and pursed in a perfect "O" shape.

"Potter!" She screams out as she orgasms. "Fuck, Potter!"

He likes it that she doesn't call him Harry when she comes. It seemed right that when she finally lost control, he is still Potter. It makes what is happening between them seem less wrong. Or maybe it is makes it even more wrong, but that the wrongness of it is what is right.

He chants, "Parkinson, Parkinson," like a prayer as he takes his pleasure from her.

"That's not my name," Pansy says through gritted teeth. "I'm a Malfoy now."

The thread snaps inside Harry's belly and he is coming in hot spurts inside of her. "Malfoy!" he yells. Harry leans down and buries his head in Pansy's neck. They don't talk about it.

xxx

Pansy slips from the bed and pads her way across the bedroom. Harry is asleep, snoring gently on Draco's side of the bed. She slips into the guest room and finds her husband. Draco's trousers are down around his thighs still. There are dark stains on the counterpane. He hasn't even bothered to cast a scrougify yet.

Draco looks up at her, his hair is a mess and red rims his eyes as though he's been crying. "Why him, Pants?" He asks in a broken voice. "Of all the men, why him?"

Pansy rushes to him and climbs onto the bed. She straddles his lap and kisses his face, tasting the salt of his dried tears. She holds his head to her breasts and rocks him in her arms, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

"Because its what you want, darling," she whispers. "This isn't about me. This is all for you."

Draco kisses her hard on the mouth and she knows he is searching for Potter's taste on her lips. When he inhales, his nose pressed against her neck, he's relishing the scent of her floral perfume mixed with Potter's spicy aftershave. When he licks and nibbles the skin of her hips, he's tasting Harry's sweat on her body. When he pushes into her, he knows that Potter's cock has been here just an hour before. When he releases himself inside her, he knows that his cum is mixing with Potter's deep within his wife's cunt. When he fucks Pansy, he is fucking Harry.

xxx

It is almost dawn when Pansy slips back into her bedroom and slides into bed next to Potter. Usually she wakes her lovers and asks them to leave, feigning worry that her husband will return soon. But she spent all night with Draco. They haven't fucked so many times in one night since they were teenagers at Hogwarts. Thankfully, their skills have improved with age. She is sore and tired, but knows that she wouldn't be able to rest for many hours yet. She sighs and rolls over to study Potter's sleeping form.

"You'd better make him happy," she whispers to him although he cannot hear her. "Or I'll make you wish Voldemort had killed you years ago."

xxx

The smell of coffee wakes Harry from his sleep. The spot next to him is empty, cool but not cold. He glances out of the window and sees that the sun is up, but only barely.

He dresses quickly and follows the scent to the kitchen. He shouldn't be in another man's home, with another man's wife. Not that he would take back last night for anything, he just shouldn't have fallen asleep. Waking up in the bed he'd fucked Pansy Parkin—no, Pansy Malfoy—in the night before makes it all too real.

She turns when he enters the kitchen and looks surprised to see it was him. "Oh, Potter," she smiles. "Coffee?"

He nods in thanks as she pushes a warm mug into his hand. He blows at the steam that rises from the cup before taking a few tentative sips.

"I shouldn't be here," he says simply.

Pansy glances down the hall nervously and bites her lips. She seems torn. "No, maybe you shouldn't. I thought—" but then she cuts herself off. She ignores the look of confusion on Harry's face. "Perhaps it would be better if you leave."

"What is he doing here still?" A cold voice cuts in through the entrance to the kitchen.

"Still?" Harry asks, looking between Malfoy and Pansy.

Pansy blushes and busies herself in the sink, washing dishes the muggle way.

"Yes, Potter, still." Draco says shortly as he walks through the kitchen and grabs a mug from the cupboard. His back is to Harry as he pours a cup and takes a sip. "It's one thing to fuck my wife, but its an entirely different thing to stay the night and drink my coffee in the morning."

Pansy snorts at the sink and sneaks a glance at Draco. He is smiling into his cup. Pansy relaxes.

"I..." Harry starts, but he has nothing to say. What does one say to a man whose wife he just bedded? When that man seems unperturbed by this notion? He notices that Draco is wearing pyjama pants and his hair is mussed from sleep. He realizes that Draco hadn't been out last night, at all.

Anger surges through Harry. "You were here?" he demands. "You knew?"

"Honestly Potter," Draco says and he turns around, "you think I don't know what goes on my own home? Even Pansy's not that sneaky."

Harry turns to Pansy, who only gives him a small shrug. He wants to be angry, to yell at her for her deception. But instead he just laughs. He should have known, he should have expected. Slytherins and their sex games.

"Did you like fucking Pansy?" Draco asks as though he were inquiring about Harry's favorite quidditch team.

"Yes," Harry blinks.

Draco takes another sip of his warm coffee, but his eyes are locked on Potter's. He puts the mug into the sink. "Good," Draco nods. He gives Pansy a soft spank on the rear before adding, "So did I."

Draco disappears down the hallway, into the room that Pansy and Potter had shared the night before. Pansy turns from the sink and looks at Harry. Her eyes are dancing with the same mischief he had seen at the ball. "So, Potter," she begins as she sidles up to him and wraps her arms around his waist, "next Friday?"

xxx

Every weekend for the next two months, Pansy fucks Potter while Draco listens through the thin walls. Harry never sees him, but he knows he's there. He knows that Pansy's screams are partly for him, partly for her husband, but he doesn't care. He likes the idea that he's defiling something that belongs to Malfoy, although he knows that Pansy would dig her nails into his arm if she heard him say so. He knows that Pansy doesn't belong to anyone, she is with Malfoy because she wants to be. Harry isn't jealous when he thinks about the fact that they love each other, but that they don't love him. No, he's not jealous at all.

Everything changes on a cold night in December. Pansy and Harry stumble through the door, warmed by the mulled wine they had at the pub. Draco isn't in the guest room as usual, he is sitting on the sofa with a bottle of firewhiskey in hand, staring blankly into space. He doesn't turn when they enter.

Pansy knows there is something horribly wrong. She abandons Potter's side and rushes to Draco. She sits at his feet and grabs his hand.

"What happened?" She asks.

Draco turns his head to look at her, but its as if he is looking straight through her. He motions to the coffee table and Pansy turns to see an opened letter.

She grabs it and reads.

"Oh, Draco," she climbs into his lap and takes his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I'm so sorry, darling. "

Potter shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. He doesn't know what has happened. He feels out of place.

"She's dead," Draco whispers to no one in particular. "My mother, she's..."

"I know, baby," Pansy kisses him, licking his tears away once again. "It will be okay. You'll get through this, we'll get through this.

Pansy leads him by the arm and Draco allows himself to be dragged down the hall to their bedroom. Harry thinks they've forgotten about him, but then he hears Pansy's voice call out.

"Are you coming, Potter?"

xxx

Harry enters the room. Pansy and Malfoy are on the bed. She is on top of him, smothering him in gentle kisses and soft whispers. She catches Harry's eye and beckons him over. His feet move without his consent and he climbs onto to bed. Pansy grabs him by the neck and kisses him harshly. He wants to pull back, to ask her what she thinks she is doing, but she is holding him too tightly.

Pansy lets go and Harry pulls away. He looks at her and then at Malfoy and is surprised to find the other man's face has darkened with lust. Pansy leans forward and captures Draco's lips in her own. She cries as they kiss. She is sucking Draco's pain from him and carrying the weight of it herself. Harry watches in awe, amazed by the way they move together. He feels an irrational sting of jealously and wishes that they cared to know him as well as they knew each other.

Pansy breaks the kiss with Draco and sits up.

"Potter," she kisses Harry again, softer this time. "Please, he has lost so much tonight."

Harry pulls back and looks at her, then glances down at Draco. He's not positive what she means, but he can guess. He may not understand all of their silent communications, but he hasn't spent so much time with Pansy over the past couple months not to pick up a few things.

Draco braces himself on his arms and sits up, "Pants, please...don't. It's not—"

"Hush, Draco," Pansy commands. Harry is surprised to hear her take that tone with Malfoy, considering what he has just discovered, but he is even more surprised by the fact that Malfoy obeys.

"Harry," Pansy kisses him again. She takes her hand in his and places it atop Draco's, "please."

Harry doesn't think, he just does. He leans down and kisses Malfoy. The kiss is tentative at first, he is asking Malfoy's permission and Draco is asking his. But the pace quickens and Draco wraps his hand around Harry's neck and is pulling Harry against him. Pansy shifts and crawls off of Draco's lap. Harry takes her place. And then he can't stop, the taste of Malfoy is too much. He is strong and hard and sharp underneath him and it is unlike anything Harry has ever known. Malfoy's hands are on his belt and then the leather is sliding through the loops on his trousers. Harry's hands are underneath Malfoy's shirt. His fingers trace the long, deep scar he gave him when they were just boys playing at being men. He wonders how many scars the other man hides underneath his well-tailored robes. He wonders how many of them are his fault. He wishes he could heal them all with kisses. He wishes Malfoy could heal his scar too.

Harry feels the bed shift as Pansy climbs off. He hears her quietly tiptoe across the room, hears the lock of the door clicking as she leaves. He hears, but he doesn't care because Malfoy is whimpering into his mouth and pressing up against him. Malfoy's hands are down his trousers and wrapped around his cock. Malfoy's cock is thick and warm in his own hand.

Draco moans and tilts his head back. Harry bites along the column of his white throat.

They are naked and Harry is on top and Draco is spread out beneath him. The tears are gone, but his expression is still pained. Harry is unsure what to do, but Draco instructs him in whipsers. A quick spell is cast and Harry's fingers are sticky and slick. Draco moans as they enter him, stretching his arse gently. Harry bites down a moan of his own as he watches Draco writhe against his hand. Harry wonders how it would feel for his cock to be where his fingers are and minutes later he learns. It is incredible, it is unlike anything else, it is hot and impossibly tight. Harry's balls slap against Draco's arse as he fucks him. Draco's bounce as he gets fucked.

Draco comes in hot, white spurts that splash against his chest. Harry drops down, capturing Draco's lips in a brutal kiss. When he pulls away, his own chest is sticky with Draco's mess. But he doesn't care. He just pushes into Draco over and over until his own orgasm rips through his chest and he comes deep inside Malfoy's arse.

Harry lays down and pulls Draco into his arms. He doesn't know why he's doing this, he doesn't understand, he just does. He kisses him and Malfoy kisses him back.

"You didn't have to do that, Potter," Draco says with lowered eyes.

Harry kisses each eyelid, his heart swelling, "I know."

Harry thinks he is beginning to understand the Malfoys.

xxx

They no long refer to the spare room as the guest room. It is Harry's room now. He spends more time at their house than he does at his own. None of his friends know, but they don't think to ask. Harry has been quiet and secretive ever since the war ended. Sometimes Pansy comes to visit him at night, sometimes it is Draco. Sometimes he crawls into their bed with them and sometimes he sleeps alone. There isn't a schedule, there aren't any rules. There don't need to be because Harry understands them now. He can read their furtive glances, he's can decode their arched eyebrows. He understands the way they love each other and he loves them for it. And he knows that in their own way, they love him too.

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><p><strong>I actually wrote this when I was pretty stoned. Hope its not too obvious.<strong>

**Please, read and review!**


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